


Third Time's the Charm

by DaniGetYourGun (SharkbaitHooHaHa)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 05:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/DaniGetYourGun
Summary: Right on time, a plane appeared over St. James and spelled out ‘marry me, Angel’ in puffy white letters in the sky. Now, Crowley just had to wait for Aziraphale to notice, get down on one knee, and pull out the ring. It was all perfectly romantic, he thought, and the other visitors to the park seemed to agree if their excited pointing and chatter was anything to go by. There was just one problem.Aziraphale wasn’t looking.





	Third Time's the Charm

For what had to have been about the hundredth time, Crowley went over the checklist again in his head.

The ring? He frantically patted the front pocket of his jacket until he felt the small lump. Check.

He was at the park with plenty of time to spare? He looked around. Yes, this was most certainly St. James’ park. Same pond, same bench, same ducks. Check.

Aziraphale was with him? He looked to his right. Aziraphale was… not there. Oh no! He forgot Aziraphale! His leapt off the bench in a blind panic and– oh, wait, no– there he was, buying some ice cream. Check.

He sat back down as Aziraphale came back carrying two cones. He handed the vanilla one off to Crowley and then frowned. “Are you alright, my dear? You look pale.”

“No, no, yeah, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong!” He would probably sound more convincing if his voice didn’t sound so shrill, but it was best to focus on things he could actually control, so he forced his leg to stop bouncing and took a bite out of his ice cream.

“Are you sure?” Oh, damn, Aziraphale looked really concerned.

Crowley gave him a smile that he hoped was convincing. “I’m fine. But your ice cream’s melting.”

The distraction worked, and pretty soon Aziraphale was as entranced by his soft serve as if it were the finest dessert The Ritz had to offer.

Which turned out to be Crowley’s downfall when, right on time, a plane appeared over St. James and spelled out ‘marry me, Angel’ in puffy white letters in the sky. Now, Crowley just had to wait for Aziraphale to notice, get down on one knee, and pull out the ring. It was all perfectly romantic, he thought, and the other visitors to the park seemed to agree if their excited pointing and chatter was anything to go by. There was just one problem.

Aziraphale wasn’t looking.

His ice cream still had his full attention, and he wasn’t even halfway finished with it.

“Erm, Angel,” Crowley said after a ridiculously long moment. “Look at the sky.”

“Oh, yes, my dear,” Aziraphale said, still fixated on his blasted dessert. “It’s absolutely lovely out today, isn’t it?”

The words were already beginning to lose their form as the wind twisted them around.

Crowley began to panic. “But Angel, look!”

“Oh, this is positively scrummy!” Was Aziraphale even listening to him? “Would you like to try some, dear, I know you prefer vanilla, but this chocolate is positively divine.”

“No– Angel– LOOK!”

Aziraphale finally looked. “What? What is it dear? Is everything okay?”

Crowley looked up to find that the message now looked like nothing more than a thin, wispy cloud.

He wanted to scream.

“Yeah,” he squeaked. “Everything’s fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Ngk!”

At least it was a lovely day, as Aziraphale had said, and the two had a perfectly pleasant time roaming the park hand in hand.

—

Okay, time for another run of the checklist.

The ring? He patted his front pocket to find it empty. Oh, come on– no, no, wait, the waiter had it. That was part of the plan. Okay. Check.

At The Ritz enjoying a fine meal? Fancy tables, fancy chairs, and fancy food. Only the best for his angel. Check.

Aziraphale sitting across from him? He smiled fondly as he watched the angel order seconds and then thirds. It should be impossible to feel so much affection for someone simply from watching them eat, yet here they were. Check.

Now all he had to do was wait for Aziraphale to order desert, the waiter would plant the ring in whatever treat Aziraphale decided to order, and all Crowley would have to do was pop the question.

Except…

“Ohh,” Aziraphale groaned. “I don’t think I can eat another bite…”

“What?” Crowley asked. “No! No, no, no! You still haven’t had dessert! You always have dessert!” He was choosing _now_ of all times to feel full?

“My dear, I–” He discreetly burped into his napkin. “Oof. I-I really couldn’t. But please, if you would like something, don’t hold back on my account.”

“No…” Crowley sighed. He smiled tiredly as he gestured for the check. “No, that’s alright. Let’s just go home, shall we?”

Having an angel’s head resting in his lap while he read to him wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening, after all.

—

What was it humans like to say? Third time’s the charm?

The ring? Lower jacket pocket, in a ring box this time. Check.

Was he where he needed to be? He was in Aziraphale’s bookshop, on the couch, enjoying a glass of wine. But perhaps he should do it at his place, instead? No, no, best not to second-guess himself at this stage. The bookshop would do fine. Check.

Aziraphale? Why, he was quite next to him looking lovely as ever with a pink tint to his cheeks that had appeared too early into the night to be a result of the drink. He was smiling at him, that adoring, shy smile that he reserved just for Crowley, and he was kneeling on the floor, a ring box open in his hand and– wait.

“Crowley, my love, I guess what I’m trying to say is… Will you marry me?”

Crowley gaped silently for so long that Aziraphale began to fidget. “My dear, I know brevity is the soul of wit, but I would really appreciate it if you would say some–”

“No!” Crowley blurted, and oh, _damn _himall over again_,_ why was he so bad with words? He didn’t mean to make Aziraphale’s face crumble like that, he _never_ wanted to see that look in his eyes.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry, I–” Aziraphale’s voice was thick, and no, no, that wasn’t what he meant. He had to make him see.

Crowley threw himself off the couch so that he landed heavily on his knees in front of Aziraphale. He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and thrust it so far forward that Aziraphale actually had to pull his head back, lest he get hit in the face.

“Please,” Crowley gasped. “Please marry me.”

Aziraphale stared at him and for a terrifying moment Crowley thought he had fucked it all up, ruined everything, and now Aziraphale would never–

Aziraphale started laughing. It was a warm, joyous sound and it filled Crowley with light.

“…Is that a yes?” Crowley asked.

“No, my dear, I only asked you to marry me so I could say no when you countered with your own proposal,” Aziraphale teased.

“…So, that’s a yes, then?”

Aziraphale looked at him fondly before pulling him close and kissing him.

“…I still don’t know if that’s a yes,” Crowley pointed out when they finally broke apart.

“Yes, my dear. Of course,” Aziraphale said.

And he kissed him again.


End file.
